Alphabet Soup
by MordorianNazgul
Summary: A series of 26 vignettes revolving around the lives of Revan, the Exile, and the crews of the Ebon Hawk. DSM Revan, LSM Exile. Chapter Summaries inside. Update: Added 3 & 4.
1. Gestures

**Title:** Gestures

**Author:** MordorianNazgul

**Fandom:** Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords

**Rating:** PG

**Category:** Angst/Drama

**Warnings:** Maybe kinda slash? Spoilers.

**Summary:** It had been a long time, but he still remembered the General's gestures.

**Archiving:** Ask first, please.

**Feedback:** Reviews make me happy. And so do flames.

**Disclamer:** Star Wars belongs to Lucas. KotOR belongs to Bioware. I don't own anything but my concept for the Exile.

**Note:** To keep you guys from wondering too much what's up with the Exile, he's a Light Side fellow named Tobias Donn. He's a Jedi Consular, shite with repairing things but great with slicing into computers and with catching things other people normally miss. He is also incredibly emotional, particularly about people that he knows.

They didn't speak much of the war, and when they did they pretended that they hadn't seen each other much. But that was all a lie, and they both knew it. Maybe the General thought he could learn how to fix machines from him; General Donn was notorious for breaking everything he touched. Or maybe he was fascinated by the making of machines.

But he liked to think that the General would show up in the garage every day just because he liked the company. Either way, Tobias would come through regularly. He had talked a lot about battle plans, catching him up on the latest in the war effort. Sometimes he was pleased, and his happiness was contagious.

More often, though, the General appeared sad. About what, he wasn't sure. He'd speak in quiet tones about the bodies. Mandalorian or Republic, it didn't matter. General Donn mourned them all. His sadness had been contagious, also.

In the end, the General disappeared, and he moved on. The Jedi Civil War started and ended. He went to Telos.

Then the General came back.

Tobias's ship had crashed on the plains. He'd gotten there in time to see the General get to his feet, slowly. Almost painfully. He had others with him, an old woman and a suspicious-looking man. For their sake they made quick introductions.

He fell in step with Tobias; it wasn't hard. They fought side by side again, there on the plains. It was almost surreal.

He found another ship, just like the General had asked, and they took off again. He'd been knocked out in the crash, but Tobias had been okay with that. "Not your fault," he had said softly, helping him to his feet.

They had been traveling for maybe a few weeks at most, now. Tobias still came by the garage everyday—though this one was a bit smaller than the last—and would talk. Now it wasn't talk of war, though. It was talk of the Jedi Masters they were searching out. He'd smile when he talked about Kavar, his original master who had nearly gone to war with them. His sentences would become short and clipped when he mentioned Vrook or Vash; the General was convinced that they both hated him.

He remembered the General's usual gestures. He had just gotten back from meeting the last Jedi left in the galaxy, and he was in the cargo hold, pacing. Pacing could mean different things, but his mouth was moving in a silent dialogue. He only did that when something had upset him terribly.

He raked a hand through his dusty brown hair, betraying nervousness. "General?" Tobias stopped, gazing at him.

"She killed them. Kavar, Vrook…" He stiffened up, trying to hide a shiver. "I had to bury them. I… I never wanted them to die. Any of them." He sat down on a plasteel cylinder, head in his hands. "Not even after what they said about me. Leeching the Force off of…" He trailed off, shivering again.

"If you want me to come back later-" he started.

"No!" Tobias interrupted, fear in his voice. He was afraid? His hands were shaking as he lowered them to his knees. "No. Please stay. Sometimes I think… I think you're the only one I can talk to. You know what it's like. Maybe Mandalore does too, but… it's different. You know what it is to rage against yourself." He sighed, rocking back and forth slowly. That was the other 'very upset' position he would get into.

"General?" he asked again. Donn had always been a little cryptic, but now he was just confusing.

"You don't know? What they told me?" Tobias laughed, short and harsh. He thought the General was laughing at himself. "I didn't think Atton could keep his mouth shut about anything." He stood again. Definitely nervous; he had only ever seen the General like this before Malachor, pacing and sitting at random while he finished diagnostics on the mass shadow generator. "They said… they told me that I'm a-a wound in the Force. That I cut myself off from it after the mass shadow generator was fired—to protect myself from being killed by all the death it caused. And now… now everything I am is leeched from those around me. Other Force Sensitives." His hands were folded behind his back as he paced, with his shoulders slumped forward; he had seen that one the most during the war. It spoke of great sadness.

"I would have let them strip me of the Force," he continued. "I don't want to be like this. How did Visas describe her master? 'The place where the Force goes to die'? That's me. I can't… I don't want to do that. I don't want to hurt you. I was going to let them sever me from the Force, but Kreia came. She came and killed them." He stifled a sob.

He'd talked to Mandalore once about the General. Mandalore had mentioned something that Kavar said on Onderon. 'His most passionate student,' he'd said. 'Overly emotional,' he'd said. He wondered if Kavar would still think that if he could see the General now, to the point of weeping for a man that he knew Tobias hated.

He had heard Tobias roar from the men's quarters earlier. It hurt him to hear it, the rawness of it. Donn had done something like that on Dxun, after sending his troops into a minefield, to watch them die. He remembered that day, seeing the General fall to his knees, dig his fingers into the dirt, and scream like the mines were tearing into his flesh and not the sergeant with the pretty face.

He knew the General didn't sleep well these days. He guessed it was all that death. The General had mentioned something about strong connections through the Force once; maybe it applied to enemy as well as friend. He would see Tobias up at all hours; he didn't sleep well, either. They had something in common there.

The General didn't bother to try to stop the next sob. He reached out, carefully touched Tobias's shoulder. Tobias didn't flinch away, didn't tell him to leave. General Tobias Donn crumpled against him, shuddering, sorrow rolling off him in waves. This gesture he'd never seen, but the meaning was universal. "I can hear them screaming. I can hear them screaming in my head, Bao."

He didn't know what to say, so he did the only thing he could think of. He embraced the General.


	2. Perfect

**Title:** Perfect

**Author:** MordorianNazgul

**Fandom:** Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords

**Rating:** PG

**Category:** Angst/Drama

**Warnings:** Maybe kinda slash? Partially OOC Dark Lords. Spoilers. AU

**Summary:** Dark Lords' intentions aren't always clear-cut.

**Archiving:** Ask first, pweeze?

**Feedback:** Reviews make me happy. And so do flames.

**Disclamer:** Star Wars belongs to Lucas. KotOR belongs to Bioware. I don't own anything but my concept for Revan.

**Note:** My Revan is Dark Side male. He was originally a soldier, but became a Jedi Guardian when the Council let him start training in the Force. He's almost the exact opposite of the Exile; where the Exile is incredibly emotional, Revan can be almost ice-cold (unless there is pain involved). His left eye was replaced with a cybernetic heat-detecting one while he was in the Unknown Regions. Long story; don't ask.

**Note 2:** Yes, it's AU. I like Sion too much to kill him off. He's a very interesting character, and I was sad when he died, dammit.

He could hear voices speaking in unrecognizable tongues as he ran through the vast wasteland that was Korriban. He had returned from the dark places of the galaxy a little stronger, a little stranger, and now he was being hunted.

The man chasing him called himself Sion. He might have been handsome once, before he broke his bones and cracked his flesh. He didn't remember a Sion from all his time in the empire that he had built, from all the Jedi he'd had broken. Maybe this one had always been a Sith.

He wasn't known for being the fastest runner; Malak and Tobias could easily beat him in a footrace. But he could run forever; he had outpaced all the other students at Dantooine when they ran across the plains. That is what he had been doing now, for the past two days. He hadn't stopped, spent the hot hours chasing the sun—or did it chase him?—during the night ran beside seven sickly pale moons, almost the color of Sion's bloodless skin.

Pain was shooting up his left leg. He ignored it, pulled the sleeve of his robe down to hide the electrical burns he'd gotten in the Unknown Regions. He knew he couldn't stop, or the dead thing would catch him. What would happen, he wasn't sure. But he learned from the bad places that it was better to escape than find out.

The whispers from the planet coalesced for a single moment into one ringing word: "Revan." The planet knew he'd come back, and was more than welcoming to him. If only the last person left here had such obvious intentions.

He kept going. He had to. He was a distance runner. But he was getting tired. He hesitated to use the Force; it would just make it easier for Sion to find him, because not even this place was black enough to hide his darkness. The dark places of the galaxy had changed him, yes, taught him evil the likes of which had never been seen in the Known Regions.

He was still running when a blur of grey and white leapt from behind an outcropping of stone with a roar. He reached for his lightsabers, or maybe it was Ajunta Pall's sword he tried to grasp. It was too late; he crashed into the red-brown dirt, a heavy weight on his back. He tried to find purchase in the parched soil, tried to get out from under the dead man sitting on him. It didn't do any good.

He reached for his sabers again, had them batted out of his hands. He was turned onto his back, a knife at his throat. "So, the great Revan returns to the empire he destroyed," Sion growled, mockingly.

He heaved in a breath. "You destroyed it yourselves."

Sion apparently wasn't listening. He flicked his finger against the metal plate surrounding his cybernetic eye. It made a dull ping. "The years haven't been kind to you, Revan."

"Let. Me. Up."

"No." Sion flicked his finger against the plate again. Apparently he enjoyed watching him flinch. "You've been running for six years now."

"What's it to you?" He bucked up, trying to throw Sion off. Obviously the other Dark Lord had better balance than he did. Not that it was hard; everyone he knew had better balance than he did. "I ran to save us all."

"And came back broken. What good is that?" The knife pressed closer against his throat. "I should kill you. It would make my Master proud."

He smiled sardonically. "Your master… my master… is dead. You know that. You saw the body." He wondered, briefly, if Sion would ever truly die, even if he didn't have the Force to call upon. He survived his fight with Tobias, somehow. Maybe he'd just played dead, like Kreia had sometimes. Or maybe he'd just let Tobias pass, to kill her. "Why don't I remember you?" he suddenly asked.

That seemed to throw Sion off-guard. "I traveled with Karath's forces," the corpse muttered.

"I should have choked the life from that man when I had the chance." He heard something pop against one of his sides, then on the other. "What are you doing?" Sion didn't answer as he reached up and opened the two clasps on his shoulders, holding Calo Nord's armor onto his torso. He could have taken the armor he'd bought on Dantooine, but some twisted code of honor made him give it to Canderous; he thought the Fett armor should stay with the Mandalorians. Sion slowly started edging the armor off. "Stop that!"

His hands started to crackle with energy, but the knife was suddenly tossed aside, and he was pinned down by his wrists as Sion kept nudging the breastplate off with the Force. He bucked again, and the armor came off, sudden and violent. He hissed as an edge scraped his chest. The Sith sitting on him chuckled darkly. "No, the years haven't been kind at all." The knife flipped in the air of its own accord before shredding through the simple robes he wore beneath his armor, exposing the ugly scarring on his torso and his arm, the splinter of a rib sticking out of his side.

Sion prodded at that exposed bone, and it was all he could do not to scream. Sion shoved the bone back under his skin, shoved it back into place. This time, he did scream. The feral smile on the dead man's face would have scared him in earlier years, back when he still thought he was the Republic loyalist Dann Polo. "If you're going to kill me, do it!"

"Oh, no. I won't kill you, Revan. Somehow I think I wouldn't do you justice. But I will hurt you. I will break every bone in your body, remake you." He knew in that instant that the corpse was insane. At least, he thought so. The smile on those cracked lips widened, and Revan shuddered.

"I will make you perfect."


	3. Blame

**Title:** Blame

**Author:** MordorianNazgul

**Fandom:** Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords

**Rating:** PG

**Category:** Drama

**Warnings:** Spoilers, shifting POV.

**Summary:** Where can the blame really rest?

**Archiving:** Ask first, please.

**Feedback:** Reviews make me happy. And so do flames.

**Disclamer:** Star Wars belongs to Lucas. KotOR belongs to Bioware. I don't own anything but my concept for the Exile and Revan.

**Note:** I know, I know. I'm not going in alphabetical order. But, the order they're going in makes sense because some of the later vignettes allude to events in the ones before them. Just trust me; when I get all 26 up, there will be one for each letter of the alphabet.

* * *

He'd been nineteen, just barely a Knight, when the wars started. He could hear of it all over the galaxy, on all the channels of the HoloNet and any encrypted channels he could slice into—Kreia surely wouldn't have approved of such a thing, if she knew he did that in his spare time. Not that it mattered anymore.

He was dueling with Master Kavar when Malak ran into the room, nearly breathless. "Dann! You have to come and see this!" He stopped; so did Kavar. Malak left the room at a sprint, and he had no choice but to follow.

He could see a crowd gathered around a holoprojector as he followed his best friend. He heard one of the other apprentices, a little younger than he, shake his head and mutter, "Those shuttas…" under his breath.

"What happened?" he asked.

The Padawan—Tobias, he thought his name was—shook his head again. "The Council has decreed we aren't to go to war with the Mandalorians in defense of the Republic."

He could feel a rage slowly building in him, and no amount of chanting the Jedi Code would help him. He felt Malak put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dann."

"I need to go out for a bit. I'll be back." He trotted out of the enclave, headed for the Force only knew where. He could hear someone behind him. He whirled; to his surprise, it was Tobias.

"It probably won't make you feel any better, but I'm just as angry as you, Knight Polo," he said. "I just wanted you to know." He headed back for the enclave.

That was probably the first time anyone had called him 'Knight Polo.' He was used to just Dann. He also hadn't thought that anyone else agreed with him on the Council's actions—or lack thereof. Maybe… if one hated the Council's choice just as much as he did, so would others. Lots of others.

No, it didn't even have to be lots of others. Just a few of them might help save the Republic. That's what the Jedi were supposed to do, right? Not just sit around, contemplating their navels while the infrastructure of the government toppled around them.

He headed for the ruins near the enclave. He could always gather his thoughts there. There only had to be a few. Ten, twenty. Maybe that would be enough. If nothing else, it would boost the spirits of the troops. The Republic would have a fighting chance. That. He could give them that. Who all could he count on? Tobias, he guessed. Malak… Malak was his best friend, had been since they were children. He might disapprove, but he'd always been there to catch him when he fell, get him out of trouble when he screwed up.

There was Bastila too, maybe. He'd only met her recently, but she was pretty. And she was powerful; anyone could feel that. Some even whispered that she had learned Battle Meditation, which would be more than enough to turn the tide of fighting.

He shook his head, sitting down at the ruin's entrance. No, she followed the Council's decrees to the letter. Even if she wanted to help, she would never go back on them. And who he needed were those that were willing to fight for the bigger cause, ignore the edicts that would kill what the Jedi were sworn to save. He needed Jedi that would rather die than see more innocent worlds burn.

But he'd have to start recruiting, and soon. He heard grass crunch, and looked up. It was Malak. "Dann?" he asked quietly.

He got up, brushing his robes off. "I know what we have to do, Malak. The Council might be content to watch the Republic burn to ashes, but I'm not. There have to be others that feel the same way. We have to go to war."

"Dann, you heard the Council. They want to consider all the options before making a final decision."

"By then millions, billions more will have died. I'm not going to let that happen! I say, if the Mandalorians want war, we bring it to them! We don't sit here and let them massacre more people!" He turned to the crowd, jumping off of the tree in the gathering circle on Dantooine. They were cheering. "I'm going to help the Republic, by myself if I have to. Will any of you come with me?"

Another roar went up from the Padawans and the young Knights gathered. He could see Tobias in the crowd, fist up in the air and roaring.

He roared as the rain on Dxun pelted down, a terrible, animal sound, his silver and green lightsabers cutting through the Mandalorians in his path. His troops, the ones left after running through the minefield, were behind him, shooting as if their lives depended on it. It did.

He met resistance on a wide blade, an implacable mask confronting him. The volume of his scream rose drastically as he fought this one, the only one with knowledge of melee combat to meet his own. Kavar had always been impressed by how speedily he picked up new techniques, and he threw them all into this fight, now.

He wondered where Dann Polo was. Of course, Dann was going by his middle name now. Revan sounded more sinister than Dann. 'Surrender to Dann or face the consequences.' It almost made him laugh.

The sword slashed across his face before a blaster bolt finally cut the Mandalorian down. "They are in full retreat, General Donn!" Captain Tabria called, cradling her arm—shrapnel from the mines had nearly shorn it off.

No, they couldn't be running, not yet. "Then hunt them down! Destroy them all!"

"As you wish, Lord Revan," the man—he thought the boy's name was Atton something—said, bowing slightly. He turned to go.

He thought of something. "Wait!" Destroying them was too harsh, would weaken them. And the one thing he could not tolerate was weakness, not after what he had learned. He stilled his emotions. Even with Tobias's exile he couldn't afford to be rash.

"Mi'lord?"

"Don't destroy them. Capture them. Turn them to our way of thinking. And only kill when you have no choice. I mean that last condition, Atton." He closed in on the soldier. "If you fail me in this, I will personally see to your death. Do we have an understanding?"

He glared at Kreia, trying not to think of how much she sounded like Revan in that one instance. "Yes… master. We have an understanding." He turned on his heel, leaving the dormitory. He didn't even know why she was up at this hour. He wandered into the garage; he'd been sure that he heard some kind of noise in there.

Bao-Dur looked up from the workbench when he entered. "Hello, General," he said, polite as ever.

"Why are you awake? I thought I was the only one up." Or he had, until Kreia confronted him. He didn't want to think about that anymore than he wanted to think about her sounding like Revan.

Bao-Dur became silent, and stopped tinkering with whatever it was on the workbench—it looked sort of like a bad-tempered blaster rifle. He understood then. "It was the war, wasn't it? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it is alright. Just…" he grimaced slightly. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Always, Bao. What is it?"

"It was the last battle. Only Revan's fleet didn't show up. And…" he explained the rest; the nod they shared before the ship was blown apart, the death, the pain… him falling.

He stayed quiet for a long while after that. "If the blood is on anyone's hands, Bao, it's mine. I could have told you not to activate the mass shadow generator, but I didn't." He compressed his lips into what passed as the slightest, saddest smile. "I just thought you should know that."

"You could have not order its activation… or I could have disobeyed the order to activate. I think the blame is equal, General." Bao's smile mirrored his own.


	4. Strength

**Title:** Strength

**Author:** MordorianNazgul

**Fandom:** Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic

**Rating:** PG

**Category:** Drama

**Warnings:** Spoilers.

**Summary:** His first concern is strength.

**Archiving:** Feel free, just credit me.

**Feedback:** Reviews make me happy. And so do flames.

**Disclamer:** Star Wars belongs to Lucas. KotOR belongs to Bioware. I don't own anything but my concept for Revan.

**Note:** This is pre-KotOR. This is also not my favorite of the ones I've written, so I apologize if this vignette is hideous.

* * *

"Send the 501st to Kashyyk."

Malak was confused about his order. He could tell from the look on his friend's face. "But Da… but Revan, the 501st is needed at Deralia. You know that."

He gazed at the computer screen in his quarters on the _Avenger_. "If we send forces there, then we weaken the ones at Kashyyk, Malak. Kashyyk is more important, they have resources we need. And I've taken the 4th to Kuat. We need the shipyards there to stay running if we want any chance to survive this war."

"So you're just going to let the Mandalorians have Dxun? After all we've done to keep it out of their grasp, you're giving it up?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. The Kuati shipyards are more important." Malak still hadn't learned. He wondered if Malak would ever learn; battle plans were not his old friend's forte. "I want the 501st headed to Kashyyk, Malak."

"Deralia was your home, Revan!"

"Protecting it would leave weakness that we can't afford, Malak!" he snapped back.

Malak gazed at him sadly. "Of course, Commander Revan. I will do as you ask." As he left, an Iridonian trotted in. A remote whizzed in behind him.

"You asked for me, Commander?" the zabrak asked.

He turned to look outside. "I did. You are the Lieutenant Bao-Dur I've heard so much about?" The zabrak nodded. "Excellent. I'm not sure if General Donn has informed you yet, but we are preparing our final assault. I have heard that you are the best there is at making weaponry. That is why I brought you here."

"What do you want built, sir?"

"I need something that will use the gravity of Malachor V to destroy the Mandalorian fleet." He wouldn't mention that it would do to have it destroy the fleet he sent to activate it; Tobias's fleet. Kill two shyracks with one stone, as it were. He'd stop the Mandalorians, and destroy those disloyal to him.

"I'll see what I can do, Commander."

Behind his mask, he smiled grimly. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You're putting an end to the war."

The zabrak smiled at him, nodded, and left. It was some time before the next one came in. "I heard you've been looking for me, sir." He knew this one's face. Atton. Atton something. He was never good with names.

"I have been, Atton." He picked up a datapad, tapping a few buttons on it. "I'm transferring you from the 501st to the 22nd. I think you'll like the company there better." The 22nd was Tobias's fleet, the ones that thought he was a lunatic and would have to be stopped after the war was over, or the ones that hoped he would give up command of the army when the war finished.

They could take the army over his dead body.

"When you return, I want to speak with you again, Atton. I'll have an important job for you, and I hope you will be willing to take it." It took effort to not say 'if you return.' But he had a sneaking suspicion that this man just might live; he'd survived on Dxun when the rest of his strike team hadn't. What had Kreia always told him? 'The Force looks out for fools.'

Atton nodded, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. "I will. Thank you, sir."

He turned back to the window as Atton left. A multitude of stars shone brightly outside. But the stars, and the planets around them didn't concern him. The places with no stars, the places filled with darkness did.

He clasped his hands behind his back. "Whatever you are, I know of you. I will not let this galaxy fall to you. The Republic will be strengthened, even if I have to destroy it with my own two hands. And then I'll come for you, and your hidden empire." The dark places were hiding something from him.

He'd find it, even if he had to tear the galaxy to shreds.


End file.
